Friday, 30 April 2010

I was blogging two days ago about British actors who make it in the US in great TV dramas. And I learned straight afterwards that BBC is producing one big cop drama, Luther, with none other than Idris Elba, the Stringer Bell from The Wire, in the lead role. I have to admit, after lamenting of the poor productions here, this seems to be a good move, at least casting-wise. Let's see if they get more than the casting right and if the series got inspired by American dramas also in the quality of the writing.

Wednesday, 28 April 2010

My wife found on BBC News an interesting article about British actors making it big on US TV. It is something I have noticed before, as most of my favourite TV dramas recently discovered (say The Wire or Rome) are produced by US money and US scriptwriters, but the casts are often heavy on British actors. The article mentions many reasons for this: British actors are competent but cheap, they can easily pass as American, they are also unknown in the American market, which is an asset when one wants viewers to see the character and not the actor, the US have of course more money, a bigger market, etc.

All of this is true, but there is also another element that is not mentioned in this article, but which Dominic West hinted at in another interview: US dramas are sadly now more creative than British ones, or at least they encourage more creativity. I deeply love a number of British dramas, but they go from fairly old to very old. The last British TV drama that I genuinly loved to bits was Sorted(I mentioned it here and you can find here its imdb page), which got stupidly axed by the BBC after its first season. The worst thing is that Americans have probably in proportions just as many poor and unimaginative shows as here, but they do get it right more often and there are people ready to back up good projects. Of course, they have the money to do it, but surely a good drama is no more expensive than a bad one. What I am worried about is that now that it has absorbed many British talents, and not only for the roles of badguys, one day they might also take British writers. It would be more difficult of course, as there is a cultural gap that cannot be filled as easily when writing about a different nation, but I can see a slippery slope. In any case, it is frustrating that British actors triumph in The Wire, while nothing of this caliber and of this particular genre has been made here in recent television history.

Monday, 26 April 2010

Spring, especially when it is such a nice one like this one (so far anyway), makes people all happy like they had never seen one. I feel like this too, on a good day. However, as I work in the domain of education and said work is often, like now, temporary and contractual, there is a sword of Damocles that prevents me for appreciating it fully. My contract will end soonish and I am already looking for a new job. Being unemployed is no holiday, even during summertime: you work just as much as if you were employed, it is just as stressful, but you don't get paid for all your pain and suffering. So I can't help but feeling anxious these days.

Sunday, 25 April 2010

Chronicle starting, ironically enough, with a picture taken in the Vieux-Québec the Saturday before Easter. It was just as nice and sunny as now, one could have thought it was summer if not for the old snow, full of sand, melting here and there and the bare trees. I have to admit, it is much greener here.

I have ambivalent feelings about Quebec City. It used to be my favourite city in the whole world when I was a young child, even though it was probably the only one I knew apart from Chicoutimi, Jonquière and the other ones from my region. Quebec City was for me exciting and exotic, with all its old buildings and Breton restaurants (about this: my wife thinks that Old Quebec looks a lot like Brittany). When I grew up, I slowly discovered Montreal and since I studied and worked there, I became a Montrealer. And there are tensions between the two cities that I integrated at least in parts in my psyche, it might have changed had I studied in Quebec City, it might have been different. Now I have to admit, Quebec City is much more beautiful than Montreal, even on a bad day. Its Vieux-Québec looks a thousand times better than Old Montreal, which I find much more austere. But I cannot help but feel that the place is full of tourists and bureaucrats. For all its flaws, I find Montreal more welcoming for people who want to live there (for tourists, that's another thing).

Anyway, that is supposed to be about a return "home", so enough about the trip. I put home in apostrophe as I don't quite feel home here yet. I live here, but I am not a local, or at least I don't feel like one. I guess it will be the case until we settle somewhere for good (or get a cat). That said, it is nice to be back in the flat, especially since the weather is so nice. The sun is here most of the time, when there is wind it is a warm one and when there are clouds the temperature does not drop dramatically. If it stays like this, it is promising for the summer. But I know better than to trust April. I can live with heavy Spring rains, even Summer showers, I just don't want snow and hail anymore/yet. I want some warmth. And some greenery, although I have been served with this since we got back in England. My recent trip home also made me want to discover British places I have not visited yet, or not visited enough. I am thinking about Cornwall, Wales, Devon...

Friday, 23 April 2010

Okay, quick blog to tell my modest readership where I am and what are the plans for this blog. So I am back in the UK, at last. I am jetlagged as expected and probably a bit lazy right now to make really interesting posts. Today was St-George's Day and I barely noticed it and I blogged about it before anyway. At the moment I might be numb, but I still have a few projects for this blog:

-Publish some photos from my last trip to Québec. Last picture I uploaded here was from nearly a month ago and this blog needs some change of colour, just like the season is changing outside and all.-Inversely and paradoxically, blog about something else than said trip (or impromptu volcanic eruptions).-Put a little bit more music. Like the pics, it gives colour to the blog. I am thinking about a few unexpected pieces at the moment.-Find some new recurring themes for some posts, like I have done with my series of existential questions ("questions existentielles") which I have so far only done in French. I haven't done much on the Muses theme, so I will try to be more disciplined this time with whatever I will come up with.

Monday, 19 April 2010

My parents are on a trip to Italy at the moment. An idea of my mum, I think, who got envious of my trips around Europe and more particularly of my time in Italy ten years ago. They travelled shortly before all Hell broke loose, so I was getting worried about them. I didn't want to be worried and did not want them to worry about us worrying, but my wife insisted that I checked if they were all right, so I called their hotel in Italy. I couldn't get through them (they had left for the day), but I got the info that they were there and as far as I could tell they were fine.

Anyway, this is the background to the main topic. I was hoping to have a little bit of Italian conversation, see if I could actually made myself understood by the locals. I had prepare a little introduction "Buona sera.Mi chiamo Guglielmo... sono il figlio d'il signor... e di la signora..." There must have been mistakes in my speech, but I think it was acurate enough to be understood. Okay, maybe I shouldn't have translated my own name (did I ever said that I actually have a complete Italian name, first and family name included, that my friends gave me?), but nevermind, I think it was quite good. I wanted to carry on the conversation in English (my Italian being limited), but I wanted to break the ice in the local language. Partially to practice a bit, partially by pride, I guess. Of course, when I got through to the reception, I froze completely, blabbered a bad mix of Italian and English, didn't even finish my introduction in Italian and reintroduced myself in English, sounding dazed and confused. They must have thought I was quite stupid. Maybe they would have been right. I was certainly overconfident.

Saturday, 17 April 2010

Sorry for this upcoming, unvoluntary and pretty lazy Biblical reference and for stressing my current situation again, but the Eyjafjallajokull is the name of the beast. I am of course talking about the nasty volcano that is keeping us here. A mouthful, which I don't think I could pronounce it actually (copy/paste is useful in many ways). Not so long ago, I was reading (or rereading) Viking mythology, which I blogged about. According to Vikings, the world had been created when fire and ice met. I think I know now where the idea came from, and also how a culture that had a Hell that was artic cold and full of ice had nevertheless fire giants among the enemies of the gods. Surtr and the others must have been born from chance encounters of Vikings with volcanoes. Well, I am not the first one who thought of that. Of course, other civilisations might have come up with their own development into myths of volcanic activities. For the Vikings, such display of fire and ashes in their cold climate must have been even more terrifying.

I have to say, however, that from the pictures and videos I saw of Eyjafjallajokull, it is quite impressive, even beautiful. Volcanoes, like cats, have the grace and nobility of predatorial beasts.

I think I got this title from Ian Fleming, "Journey into Apocalypse" was the title of one of the chapters of one of his Bond novels, but I can't remember which book exactly. Anyway, today I was supposed to leave Montreal for England. Well, something happened that changed our plans. A volcano got temperamental. So as I said earlier in a French post, we are stranded here because of a volcanic eruption. In Iceland, of all places. One would assume that volcanoes erupt only in the tropics, today's events reminded us that

My wife and I spent the day in a daze, being not quite here but not quite there, and also of course because of the spectacular way nature asserted its power over us. People call such an event an "act of God". As a Godless man of the existentialist kind, I consider such event as absurd, showing a blind but overwhelming force that shatters human plans with violence, yet without rhyme or reason. Still, they are utterly terrifying.

So we will miss England for a few more days. We will also miss the colours of sunset, which the volcano was supposed to make particularly bright. Like Hellfire? The comparison comes automatically to my mind. But I will not see it. I often miss displays of Apocalypse. By that I mean that I witness them from afar, but I am never part of it. I missed 9/11 by then days or so and when I travelled to England later, it was in a plane empty and silent like a graveyard. my wife and I were in Montreal when 7/7 happened. This time will be the same, although we are experiencing the strength of the volcano, even as far as here.

When I was walking around the Vieux Montréal, I had in mind those twoposts. I always liked the Vieux-Montréal, but I never thought it was as beautiful as, say, the Vieux-Québec, or indeed any old European town. Somehow, there is something lacking. Maybe because I always have the feeling of being in a tourist trap when I go there, I feel like the place is notgenuine. Old historical buildings are next to new ones, everything is surrounded by tacky shops and there is always a bit of road that is being repaired. I always feel like the "Vieux" has the potential to be much better than it is. Oh well, at least we did not witness anything sinister.

Back in another life, I used to see Old-Montreal quite often as I was working there. I never felt the weight of history it should have had. Now that I come back as a tourist always in company of a non-Quebecker, I feel it more. I also enjoy myself there more. Sometimes you need distance to appreciate old grounds.

Thursday, 8 April 2010

I have been home for a few days now, the first April month where I have been in Chicoutimi in ages. A few random observations about the place:

-I forgot how ugly it was during springtime. The streets are covered with sand and dust, which makes it look like some kind of Northern Arizona or Texas. Walking around the remnants of dirty snow, I almost forget it can be beautiful sometimes. The poor look the city has right now explains the absence of pictures on this blog recently.-I feel almost no nostalgia about the place, except when I am around the cégep. It didn't change all that much since my time there, maybe the happiest, most carefree moments of my first twenty years of existence.-Things got better for vegetarians: for instance Café Cambio on the rue Racine has an interesting choice of vegetarian meals. My wife and I like it quite a lot, not only because its menue but also its atmosphere. It has a nice choice of beers too.-Chicoutimi didn't change all that much, but I can't help but feel like an outsider. I don't know why.

Wednesday, 7 April 2010

For the first time in four years, I was back in Québec for the "temps des sucres", which means the time when we the maple syrup and its products get made. It was also Easter. So it was and it is still a wonderful time for my sweet tooth. I had for the first time in four years (four years!) maple butter and maple taffy. I don't care all that much about the taffy, although it was nice to taste the very distinctive taste of maple and smell its spicy perfume. And maple taffy, like maple syrup, has a lovely amber or golden colour. But I was happier to have maple butter on my toasts in the morning, as it is something I cannot get in Europe.

And I got a dark chocolate rabbit for Easter. Dark, not with milk. A sign that I am older I supposed. It was quality stuff. As a child, I usually had one by Lulu or sometimes the Pères trappistes. I might still buy some, leftovers from Easter, out of pure nostalgia.

Friday, 2 April 2010

The title and the topic of this post were inspired by this book of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, which I read in another life in cégep, and re-read in my first year in Montreal. I am not the biggest admirer of Rousseau, but I do like the idea of giving the results of reflections made randomly during a walk. So I am in Montreal for Good Friday, I will be in Quebec City for the weekend and Easter. I haven't celebrated Easter in Québec for years, not since 2006 actually.

I was thinking about this this morning when I was walking with my wife on the Plateau Mont-Royal: now I only see episodically a place that was my everyday environment for years. Seasonal changes, the look of the then familiar surroundings, all this I am not part of it anymore. I rediscover old shops and restaurants I love, but I also see with a certain sadness new places that replaced old ones. I am not quite part of Montreal anymore and maybe I am now a complete expat, as a Quebecker and a former Montrealer. I don't like to consider myself a former Montrealer, by the way. I feel like one even though I don't live here anymore.

So yes, we walked today, I rediscovered Montreal during springtime and April, or to be precise one aspect of it. Today it is sunny and warm like summertime, but the trees are bare like a November day before the first snow. Montreal is pleasant on a warm spring day, but I cannot say that it is beautiful. With two recent posts in mind (this one and that one), I paid a lot of attention to the neighbourhood's architecture, and not only the twisted outdoor stairways. There are plenty of beautiful old fashioned buildings here, which mixes sometimes well, sometimes poorly, with modern constructions (well, it is a figure of speech, some are from the 60s, 70s, 80s), which are sometimes nightmarishly ugly.

Being in Montreal means a number of things, a change of diet (breakfasts and lunch especially), living in French and more importantly the Quebec variety (hopefully I'll speak with my Saguenay accent again), getting some books in French, etc. For my wife, it is rediscovering local coffee shops (today it was this one). I don't live here anymore, but walking here, I felt home nevertheless.